


Mutual Friends

by a_storm_of_frustrations



Series: Jack Zimmerman's Guide to Moving On [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Moving On, Pining, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 09:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14766597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_storm_of_frustrations/pseuds/a_storm_of_frustrations
Summary: “Why are you crying?” Concern directed at the still crying figure, but concern directed at hoping tear stains vanish immediately. He wouldn’t want his guests to get suspicious at the possible sources of wet stains on a couch after all.Bitty lifts his head. Hair sticking with sweat on his forehead, dried tears on his cheeks, red-rimmed eyes, and continuous water flowing from his clearly healthy, and clearly functioning tear ducts.“N-nothing”, he croaks, accidentally swallowing the incoming hiccup. “There's just too much water in my body, and I don’t want to drown, so”, he sobs, “this is me trying to remove them.”--Or: Bitty accidentally breaks Rule No. 4.





	Mutual Friends

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be a series of one-shots.  
> Unbeta'ed. Although I have an awesome beta, I wouldn't want to disturb her for trash like this.  
> Basically had this idea because I was high on anxiety and caffeine on the night before my first day at my new job and I was hella nervous.

Jack finds Bitty slumped on the floor, face buried in his arms, body hiccuping with tears.   
  
Slightly alarmed, but mostly still groggy, and with a full bladder to deal with, Jack squints his eyes at his. “Why are you crying?” Concern directed at the still crying figure, but concern directed at hoping tear stains vanish immediately. He wouldn’t want his guests to get suspicious at the possible sources of wet stains on a couch after all.  
  
Bitty lifts his head. Hair sticking with sweat on his forehead, dried tears on his cheeks, red-rimmed eyes, and continuous water flowing from his clearly healthy, and clearly functioning tear ducts.   
  
“N-nothing”, he croaks, accidentally swallowing the incoming hiccup. “There's just too much water in my body, and I don’t want to drown, so”, he sobs, “this is me trying to remove them.”  
  
  
He sniffles loudly, willing both bodily fluids from his eyes and nose to stop racing as to which leaks faster. Burying his head in his arms, he nods to confirm that his body has successfully decreased in about 10% of his water weight.  
  
Jack sighs, already missing the warmth of his bed. Idly, he already regrets the decision to drink all the almost expired orange juice boxes during dinner time, and wonders if he could hold his pee for the next four to seven hours. That is until his alarm goes off. But somewhere at the back of his mind, the fear of the unknown, that is, of his bladder literally exploding, still exists, and haunts him. His eyes narrow into the darkness, zeroing in the annoying bright light from Bitty’s phone, face up the (partly dry) couch, and with an image of an extremely familiar smirk on a stupid face, arm around the blandest generic stereotypical hot girl in existence.

  
  
**Liked by**   **sugarandspice, adel24, rodeo-man, and 37 others.**

 **therealchad69** Good food. Great company. #WattaBabe #Lucky #Blessed   
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A deep sigh crawls its way out from his weary, bladder cramped, wise self.   
  
“You do know that that’s not effective for weight loss”, he tries. “I heard stories of people going blind from too much crying.”  
  
Bitty turns his head, facing the opposite direction. A displeased curl of the lips unfurls from Jack’s face, as he watches the wet stain expands its conquest to the neighboring cushion.   
  
“You’re not going to escape leg day. Even if you can’t open your shitty puffy eyes. And your cardio schedule is still a go this afternoon.”  
  
Still no answer, and with a horrifying discovery, there are dried wet tracks on his new couch cushions.  
  
Just how much water did Bitty drink?  
  
“I think that’s enough water removal now”, he pokes Bitty on the shoulder. The result of which, a wet garble paired with a harried shrug of a shoulder, is enough for Jack to click his tongue. “Okay this has got to stop”, a sharp pain from the lower left side of his stomach presses, “—hold that thought, I love you, but not enough for me to develop kidney stones.” And with that, soft, quick, footsteps hurry to the nearest bathroom. “Brb.”  
  
Eyes burning, head aching, and body wheezing the remnants of a pitiful mourning rhythm, Bitty’s brows furrowed upon the realization of the words Jack said, pre-bladder explosion. he shrugs. Maybe he’s delirious from the urge to piss. The place where his head rests has now gone damp. It’s a disgusting feeling, like lying on the wet grass. Or an ex’s humor. Maybe that she-devil’s personality. Bless her heart. As his eyelids close, the burning feeling alleviated.   
  
And yet, the steadily sinking ache in his chest continued to burrow the reality in his heart, spreading the numbness down to his bones.  
  
The images of his future play in some sort of sick montage, with the soundtrack of All By Myself, loops itself into his mind. How many cats should he buy? Although wine knocks him out easily, and he prefers liquor over it, he needs to buy like five bottles and mark each with the day of the week. Surely, he’s allowed to switch it up for beer during the weekends. There are a lot of things to change now that he’s—  
  
“I’m back”, Jack announces to nobody. His voice sounds much more awake now. To which both of them are going to regret in the morning, with Jack hating the morning, and Bitty, hating everything, every time, and everywhere, oh and everyone. Except for his cats. Imaginary cats. “Are you still crying? Please stop crying. I’ll tell you how wonderful you are and all that just stop leaking water into my new couch.” Jack cautiously chooses his words. “I’ll even tell you how your squats are starting to show.”  
  
To spite Jack, and face the consequences in the morning, or to be nice, and listen to a sadist shower you with praise. But the latter would probably result in the same thing as the first option.  
  
Bitty mentally shrugs. Might as well.  
  
Brown eyes peek from underneath his arms. Jack looks at him with the deadliest accurate suspicion. He’s wondering, again for the thousand time that day (and dawn hasn't even broken yet, so does that count as the start of the day already?), what did he do to deserve this? And by this, standing in the middle of the dark, in his living room, comforting a (friend?) apprentice in moving on, who’s currently on the way in succeeding in the gradual annihilation of his couch.   
  
His face reflexively morphing into a scowl, Jack scratches the back of his head with more aggression than he would have liked. But then as his gaze falls on the rather hopeful expression, big brown eyes and all that, Jack relents.

Of course, this program, this thing they’ve been doing for the past few weeks now, was solely created to help Bitty move on from the shitty relationship.

Knee slightly straining from the ill-placed positioning, Jack leans against the arm of the sofa for support. Eyes focus on the back of Bitty’s head. The mild scent of watermelon was distracting him and making him sleepy.

A few minutes have passed. It’s still silent in the room. Jack’s still in that awkward position, now shifting to his other knee because the previous one was aching. And Bitty still hasn’t faced him.

“Bitty?” No response. “Bittle?” Still no response.

Okay, this is getting ridiculous. “Mariah Carey is better than Beyonce—“, a hand shoots out and covers his mouth.

“Jack Zimmerman, how dare you blaspheme—”

Alarmed, Jack could only act reflexively.

He licks the palm of Bitty’s hand.

A piercing shriek tears from Bitty’s mouth. Jerking his hand away, his other hand clutching his wrist. “JACK!” Expression pinched tight. As if the boy was made to chew on bitter gourd. “What the hell was that?”  Bitty’s palm squarely lands on Jack’s chest. The firmness of it makes the tip of the blond boy’s ears all red. He drags his hand down the other’s shirt to remove the disgusting pettiness of ex-frat boy Jack Zimmerman. And if Bitty gets to somewhat accidentally get some of that action some more, well, that’s not his fault.

Jack resists the urge to roll his eyes. “What’s rule number one again, Bittle?” He says instead.

“Which one? Like, all of ‘em were number one, according to you—”

Hearing Jack’s trademark grunt, and when Bitty sneaks a glance over, yep, his also trademark crossed arms with his resting bitch face glare, the blonde boy exhales quietly. “If you mean rule number four, and yes I did create a list on my phone, and yes I did take down notes”, Jack gives a nod of respect, “that rule would be ‘Never check on your ex’s social media posts. Unfollow them if you must.’”.

“And what did you do?”

“Well—It—It’s more a friend of a friend thing!” Bitty sputters, hands flailing, slightly feeling ridiculous with his bedhead hair, his ragged yet extremely comfortable University shirt, paired with his equally worn out yet comfortable cotton shorts, and the ugly socks somewhat keeping him warm. “It just came out of my feed, and I just—”, the tears pool in his eyes again, “I miss—he’s happy, Jack. He’s happy with another person and I’m here miserable. And I’m making you miserable.”

That familiar shallow yet raw hurt threatens to break. Bitty sits down the couch. The shame from having asked Jack a million of things the past couple of weeks, only to be wasted like this, and the sadness from yearning a person who just doesn’t love you anymore overwhelms him. He folds himself. Knees touching his chest. Head hanging low. Hands tightly pulling at his hair. Bitty bites his lips. Exhausting creeping in under the cloak of an oncoming migraine.

Jack looms over him, hand raised and quickly retracted.

“He’s a dick”, is what he says instead.

Brown eyes narrow. “Don’t say that”, Bitty chides.“Yeah, things didn’t end well. But he wasn’t a total dick 100% of the time.” Sniffling, he uses his sleeve to wipe the tears. “I miss him.”

“Only like 90%?” Jack sits down next to him, stomach fluttering as he watches Bitty slightly raise his head to smile at him. “I know the guy. Well, thanks to Shitty’s research. Shitty knew the guy. You deserve better, Bits.”

Knees touching, Bitty finally turns to directly look at Jack. His eyes trace the way Jack’s hair fall unto his forehead, the way his eyebrows are pinched, the way his cheekbones, and his downturned lips make him appear so distant yet so vulnerable.

“I’m just afraid that I won’t find a person for me, you know?” His fingers strayed to the gaps of the cushions. Jack opens his mouth to argue, but Bitty softly touches the inside of Jack’s wrist. “I know it seems silly, or like I’m being dramatic. But this breakup just led me to believe that if ever I’m going to have relationships after this, it’s all gonna end the same, y’know? Like there’s something in me that’s inherently unlovable.”

“Bits.”

“You say I deserve better”, Bitty maps the veins on Jack’s wrists, all the way to the palm of his hands, completely missing the repeated clenching and unclenching of Jack’s free hand. “But what do I deserve? What does better mean? Isn’t asking for better asking for too much? I mean”, he shrugs, “how do I know that I’m worth it?”

Jack resists the urge to shake Bittle in an attempt to let him face reality. The reality that he’s probably the easiest person to love if he could just let him—

His blood freezes.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Jack?”

“Euh—”, Jack starts. “It’s—I—”, it seems as his whole body is in some kind of itching heat. A kind of restlessness nest in every corner of his limbs, down to this toes. “You’re worth it, Bittle. I’m probably not the best person to talk about relationships, of all things, but I know one thing’s for sure.”

Jack turns, hand enclosed on Bitty’s index and middle finger. “You’re hard working. You take care of people. You’re fast on the ice. You push past your comfort zone. You always think of others. Your cooking and baking had me gain a couple of pounds”, Bitty smiles at that, “you may have a horrible french accent, you get distracted easily, and you sing terribly, but—”, Jack chuckles at Bitty’s offended glare, “you make up for it with your dancing. You always put others’ happiness over your own. And most of all, you are the bravest person I have ever met.”

And Jack’s a bit surprised to find himself grinning. Although Bitty’s openly sobbing and laughing right now. Jack pulls him in for a hug.

And at that moment, with his chin resting on top of Bitty’s head, arms around his trembling back, the rhythm of his heartbeat matches his own. Jack realizes that this probably, and selfishly, his own definition of happiness.

A definition Bitty should never know.

“Hey, Jack?” Jack shuts his eyes, enjoying the sensation of Bitty’s hands clutching at his chest. “You forgot something.”

“Hm?”

“You forgot to compliment the physique of my butt.”

Jack chuckles. The vibration warmly making Bitty giggle.

And Jack tells him so. Jack will gladly do anything for Bitty. He’ll do all the cliches, pick flowers, and the moon, and stars. He’ll make him laugh, and annoy him about pop culture, and pester him at four in the morning to go on a jog with him.

Because Bitty deserves it. He deserves so much for handing out love so easily, and molding kindness and the comfort to be called home so ready at hand, to anybody who needs it. He’s a literal walking ray of sunshine.

And although Bitty doesn’t know it yet. Although Bitty is still hurting, reeling from being abandoned at the what-ifs of a supposed hopeful future. Jack’s going to make sure that at the end of their proposed month-long program. Bitty’s going to emerge confident, comfortable at going his own pace, and especially, being able to love himself.

In the art of moving on, to love yourself, and to be able to exist alone, and independent, without the need of being dependent on a relationship, is the primary goal.

Jack thinks about that. He also thinks about how once Bitty moves on, he’ll have no problem in finding another person, and although he’ll be more careful, and more guarded, he’ll be happier the next time around.

The fact that it’s another person, and not him, contributing to Bitty’s happiness and Bitty’s future just leaves a somewhat bitter taste in his mouth.

But it’s alright, he’s going to learn how to ignore it.


End file.
